


i have tried in my way to be free

by wrennette



Series: fearsome, loyal, and formidable [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Fallen Obi-Wan, M/M, Obi-Wan typical flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: In which the Sith priest Kissai, formerly known as Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, seduces Darth Tyrannus away from Sidious.





	i have tried in my way to be free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EternalEclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/gifts).

> title from the Leonard Cohen song Bird on a Wire

Dooku paused in the fading light in the palace atrium, his hand hovering over the clasp of his cloak. Something wasn’t right. He let his hand fall to his waist, near where his lightsaber rested. Cautiously, he walked deeper inside, listening both with his ears and the Force.

An unnatural stillness had settled over the palace. There were no hurrying footsteps of servants on errands. No quiet squeak and beep of droids as they went about their tasks. Moreover, there was a sense of waiting. It itched beneath Dooku’s skin. He was a Sith Lord, who would dare intrude on his sanctuary uninvited?

As he traversed the labyrinthine corridors, tension crept up Dooku’s back and stiffened his shoulders. The feeling of wrongness permeated the gleaming marble floors and ornate, gilded decorations. Shadows seemed deeper in the corners and along the walls, reaching out for him, trying to entrap him. Dooku’s footsteps began to hurry, until he was nearly trotting through the halls. 

Bursting into his office, Dooku stopped short. Seated on one of the plush settees was a figure half-hidden in darkness. On the low table, the crystal decanter had been opened, and a cut crystal tumbler of Dooku’s prohibitively expensive brandy sat glittering in one of the few bits of light in the room. The faint illumination made the drink seem darker, almost the colour of fresh blood. 

“Count Dooku,” a rich voice greeted. The accent was almost Coruscanti, but not quite. Perhaps someone attempting to sound like a Coreworlder, or someone who had been away from the Core for a very long time. 

“Who are you?” Dooku demanded. “How did you get in here?”

Dooku’s guest chuckled, soft and sinister, and unease curled and twisted in Dooku’s gut. Fear boiled into anger even as Dooku recognized the emotion. He funnelled his passion as he’d recently been taught, slashing a bolt of Sith Lightning at the shadowed stranger without care for the precious items that were scattered about the room in arrogant display. 

“You overstep yourself,” the stranger said mildly. They reached up, catching Dooku’s lightning with their gloved hand as if it was a gently tossed ball. Dooku stared in mounting horror as they wound the sparkling electricity through their fingers like a street magician doing a trick with a credit chit. 

“Who are you?” Dooku asked again, this time with horrified awe. His guest rose, crushing the lightning in their hand. Sparks of fae-light caught on the stranger’s visage. Beneath their heavy cowl, Dooku could see pale skin and a sharp jawline, but all else was obscured by the figure-concealing robes that draped their form. 

“Who I am is unimportant. It is what I would offer you that matters,” the being said. “You have pledged yourself to my enemy, Sidious. You have humbled yourself before a man who will never teach you the true strength of the Dark Side of the Force. The Line of Bane’s Rule of Two ensures it. For what Master would empower the apprentice who will one day depose them, and take up their place as Dark Lord of the Banite Sith?”

“You would have me betray him,” Dooku guessed, shifting slightly to keep the stranger in front of him as they circled.

“Is not betrayal the way of the Sith?” the being asked mildly. Dooku hesitated slightly at that. The stranger laughed again, a quiet, unnerving sound that set Dooku’s teeth on edge. “Kneel, and you may call me Kissai, and I shall teach you how to become a true Sith.” 

Dooku swallowed thickly, reaching for the Force, needing that reassurance. Betrayal _was_ after all the way of the Sith, and Sidious - Sidious had promised little and demanded much. Dooku’s mind raced, flitting from one crumb of information to another. 

Kissai was a title that hadn’t been used in over a thousand years, since the Sith had been whittled down to the Line of Bane, their caste system eliminated. Under that long ago system, the Kissai had been the priests, the scholarly Sith who taught the other members of their culture the ways of the Dark Side. For this being to claim that title as a name - they had to have some amount of knowledge about the ancient Sith. This was no random Darksider, who had happened across Dooku by chance. 

A slow pressure built on Dooku’s shoulders. He grit his teeth, his fingers sliding around the hilt of his lightsaber. The crystal was newly-bled, and it wasn’t quite fully synched to him yet. He was not sure he could trust his blade, and vulnerability swept through him as it hadn’t in years, since he’d been a youngling in the creche. The feeling of helplessness sparked his anger once more, and he reached for that, used it to steady himself. 

“Good, you learn quickly,” Kissai said warmly, and Dooku despised them in that moment. He sprang forward, drawing on that simmering disdain to break free of the light Force-hold with which he was restrained. A bright crimson blade to match his own flashed to life and caught Dooku’s lightsaber. Dooku strained against the stranger, but couldn’t gain the leverage to close with Kissai.

Disengaging, Dooku unleashed a flurry of rapid attacks. Within a few furious strikes, it began to dawn on Dooku that he was being toyed with - his shock at finding this stranger in his home had unnerved him enough to dull his skill. Moreover, Kissai’s strength was incredible, and yet so was his speed; he could match Dooku, strength for strength and speed for speed. The rage that burned in Dooku made him stronger, but not strong enough. Kissai was forcing Dooku towards the wall. Their technique was rough, and on another day Dooku could have pressed his advantage there, but Kissai’s strength more than made up for their sloppiness. 

Even as Dooku registered that he was being driven back, he was slamming against the wall. In shock, he dropped his lightsaber, the blade blinking out as the hilt clattered on the marble floor. If this was a Sith who named themself ‘priest,’ Dooku didn’t want to meet one claiming to be a warrior. Kissai sauntered closer, _tsking_ quietly. 

“You _do_ have spirit,” Kissai practically purred. They were close enough now that Dooku could feel the heat of their blade against his neck. He could smell the hair of his beard beginning to crisp and burn. “But it would be best if you also engaged that great big brain of yours, my dear Count. I know you are not a stupid man.” Dooku bared his teeth, but he could do nothing to free himself.

“You must know coercing me will gain an ally who is reluctant at best,” Dooku grit out. 

“Oh, I know,” Kissai said. “But I also know how very much you still have to learn.” 

Dooku growled at that, and Kissai laughed, then disappeared before Dooku’s eyes. There was the faintest impression of a chill breeze, the barest hint of ozone, but Kissai was gone. Dooku sagged back against the wall, trembling. His legs crumpled beneath him, and he slid to the floor, one hand reaching out blindly for his weeping ‘saber, the other rising to touch the burn that seared across his throat. 

“Force,” Dooku murmured weakly, and half thought he heard that soft laugh echoing from the shadows. He swallowed painfully, and carefully rose, his joints aching. Crossing to his desk, he pulled up the security feed, but nothing at all showed Kissai’s arrival. They simply appeared between two seconds of recorded time, stepping out of the shadows to pour themselves a glass of brandy. 

With a swallow, Dooku tapped at his comm. Nothing, not even an out of service tone. He glanced at the little device, and tapped it again. Nothing. He tossed it onto his desk and activated the inset comm that was part of his datasuite. The machine whirred, trying to connect, but nothing happened. 

Dooku shivered, and sat heavily. He couldn’t call for help. And even if he could, who would he send for? Sidious would surely tell him to handle this interloper himself, as a test of skill. And the Jedi - well. Dooku had burned that bridge when he accepted Sidious’ training. Any Jedi worth the name would likely be able to feel Dooku’s weeping crystal from orbit. 

Glancing over, Dooku thought about drinking the already poured liquor, then paused, and stared. The glass remained where Kissai had placed it, but next to it was a glowing-red pyramidal holocron. A Sith holocron. 

As Dooku watched, the holocron bloomed, panels clicking open and sliding apart to reveal the semi-sentient crystal within. Dooku swallowed, and reached out with the Force. A reddish murk rose from the crystal, coalescing into the form of a human or near-human male of indeterminate age, with shaggy dark hair and a missing right hand. Dooku did not recognize him, but there had been thousands of Sith Lords over the years, and many of their lives remained shadowed in obscurity. 

“So you are the newest fool to listen to the whispers of Bane’s legacy,” the holocron sneered, malevolence thickening the air. Dooku swallowed again. He rose, deciding the decanter in the library contained a liquor that would suit him much better. Quickly, but trying not to look like he was fleeing, Dooku strode from the room. Behind him, he could hear the holocron cackling with amusement. 

That night, Dooku didn’t even try to sleep. He haunted the long corridors and high-ceilinged halls of the palace, ears straining for out of place noises. The residence was still far too quiet, the servants having disappeared. Occasionally he thought he caught the sound of soft footsteps or rustling fabric, faint laughter just around the corner. He didn’t even approach his office, but when he glanced down the passageway, he could see the ominous red glow of the holocron spilling out into the hallway.

For three days, Dooku keep himself awake. But even with the Force running strong within him, he could only stay alert so long before his body succumbed to exhaustion. He woke, realizing only then that he’d drowsed off. He was sprawled awkwardly in a chair in the library, and he’d dropped the holobook he was reading on the floor. Thankfully, the thick carpeting had prevented any permanent damage. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, and then jerked out of his chair in terror as he realized Kissai was seated less than a meter away, casually leafing through one of Dooku’s ancient paper-paged tomes. 

“Oh calm down,” Kissai said. “If I wanted to harm you, I could have killed you days ago. I’m still awaiting your decision.” Dooku swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“Wh-What does your plan entail?” Dooku asked, withdrawing to stand a bit closer to the door. Kissai let out a low scoff, and tossed the book onto the table. Dooku winced - that particular volume was unique, priceless. 

“So you can run back to your Master with solid intelligence? No, I think not. And besides, has Sidious truly told you his plans? Oh, I know he has given you orders. But plans?” 

Dooku held in a sound of annoyance. Sidious _hadn’t_ told him anything concrete. Just vague things about burning the rot out of the Republic and the Order alike. Dooku knew that his own political aspirations and mistrust of the Senate were being leveraged against him. He didn’t like it. But Sidious and Kissai had both already made quite clear that they were more powerful than him, capable of feats in the Dark side of the Force that he didn’t even know were possible. 

“No, he has told me no plans,” Dooku admitted begrudgingly. “This is terribly uncivilized,” he grouched, mostly to himself. Rather to his surprise, the little comment sparked a quiet laugh out of Kissai, and unlike their previous amusement, this laughter didn’t leave Dooku feeling unsure and out-of-sorts. It was a rather nice sound. 

“It is rather uncivilized,” Kissai admitted. “But for now, it does not benefit me to enlighten you further. Not until I’m certain of you.” Dooku dipped his head. Somehow, that voicing of caution reassured Dooku, made him feel a little more respected by this being, who could clearly overpower him if they desired. 

“And yet why should I swear myself to you, when I have no assurances that your intentions are honourable? No knowledge of you on which I might judge whether our goals are truly the same?” Dooku asked shrewdly. That hint of respect allowed him the confidence to treat this more like a negotiation, a situation he was far more familiar with than essentially being held hostage in his own home.

“You left the Jedi Order because you felt they had become too subservient to the Senate, not attentive enough to the will of the Force,” Kissai said, as if this were common knowledge, rather than the internal affairs of the rather secretive Order. 

“I did,” Dooku agreed, seeing no harm in acknowledging that fact, hoping that by affirming those beliefs, Kissai would reveal how he had come to know of such matters. Kissai nodded. 

“And yet, you have sworn yourself to - given authority over yourself to a Senator - to the Chancellor. Allowed him to direct and curtail your actions. You have supposed that you, yourself, Count Dooku of Serenno, know better than the Force. That he, Sidious, knows better than the Force. That because you and he are Force-adepts, you and he know better than any non-sensitive how to govern, how the rest of society ought to live.” 

Dooku drew himself up at the damning tone of Kissai’s statement. While Kissai did not say it outright, Dooku was well aware he was being accused of hypocrisy. It made him uncomfortable, because it was truth. Was he _not_ born of a higher order than most? Of noble blood and impeccable heritage, Force-strong and credit-rich? 

But even as such contemptuous thoughts rose, they withered in Dooku’s mind. He was of noble blood, yes, but he was nearly the last of his lineage, the others killed in acrimonious infighting between the noble houses on Serenno. And yes, he was Force-strong, but he had never yet bested Master Yoda, and Kissai had beaten him with seeming ease. Numerous Jedi - and practitioners of other Force sects - were likely his equal in power. In credits, there were many beings far richer. 

That Kissai also knew that the Chancellor was Sidious, when Sidious had taken such pains to hide that identity - Dooku swallowed. This being clearly knew more about himself and Sidious than either of them knew about Kissai. Sidious had claimed that there was only one other Sith, his own master. And this being - Dooku doubted they were Plagueis, who Sidious had implied was useful to him still, but aged and unwilling to travel much.

“I have already stolen one of his apprentices,” Kissai said, “does that comfort you?” 

Dooku felt his eyes widen, even as he tried to control his expression. Kissai let out that soft, pleasant laugh, the one that eschewed mockery and warmed Dooku from the inside. 

“My sworn brother, who recruits and trains our warriors came to me when I left the Jedi Order,” Kissai said, smooth voice enticing. Dooku leaned forward, slotting that new bit of information into the profile of Kissai he was building in his mind. “He came to me at his Master’s whim, but begrudging, well aware that if his Master was able to entice me to join him, we would be pitted against one another until one of us was dead, and the other - the other was a Darth.”

Dooku swallowed thickly. That _did_ sound very much like Sidious. Dooku knew quite well how vulnerable a Jedi was, in the days after they left the Order. Their whole world was changed in that time, and some handled it better than others. The thought of pitting apprentices against one another was not entirely anathema to the Jedi mind either, but such competition leading to death certainly went against the precepts of the Order.

“You were a Jedi?” Dooku asked, clutching at that commonality between them, and Kissai chuckled softly. 

“I was,” Kissai acknowledged. “I left the Order because I was raised and trained and sent to help people, and then told that the type of help they wished was unacceptable for a Jedi to provide. That a single being’s life ought to be prioritized over an entire generation of children staring their own deaths in the face.”

Dooku wracked his mind, trying to remember recent famines, disasters, and conflicts that resulted in high numbers of fatalities among the young. There had been many, these past years. And many, he knew, had been worsened by Sidious, a slow darkening of the Force that strengthened the Sith and blinded the Jedi. The part of him that had pled with the Senate for greater resources ached that the Order had lost this being, who was so willing to follow both the Force and their own beliefs. 

“How easy it is, to placate you,” Kissai mused, and Dooku bristled, earning another quiet chuckle from Kissai. “You are only a man Count Dooku, no matter your other qualities.” 

It was not said with disdain, and Dooku was a little surprised that the comment did not make him feel small. Such an observation from Yoda or one of the Councilors would have nettled him just as surely, and if they’d followed such an utterance with laughter - he did not doubt he would have been offended. And yet this being’s amusement set him at ease.

“I am not placated,” Dooku said carefully, trying to refine his thoughts. “But I am - reassured by this commonality between us.” Kissai hummed softly. 

“And this moves you to think more seriously about siding with me?” Kissai asked, head tilting slightly. Dooku dipped his head in turn. 

“It does,” Dooku acknowledged. “As I am sure was your intent.” Despite being unable to see Kissai’s face, Dooku was certain the being smiled. 

“Would it further assure you if I were to tell you that I am the only Kissai, and that my brother and those he has recruited have all reclaimed the formidable title of Massassi?” Kissai asked. 

Dooku leaned back a little, propping his shoulders against the wall. Did it help, to learn that? From Kissai’s voice, Dooku had estimated they were younger than him. Was it possible they were seeking out a fellow scholar to help elevate the philosophies of their band of Sith? If the others all took the style Massassi, that more than implied that they were primarily warriors, less interested in the esoteric skills and Force philosophies the treatises of the ancient Sith discussed. Dooku found he liked the idea of being a revered scholar and eminent elder once more, someone sought for their wisdom and erudition, rather than usefulness in the political arena.

“So I would work primarily with you, rather than your - brother?” Dooku theorized, and Kissai’s head dipped in affirmation. “As a scholar?” Dooku pushed.

“Primarily, although your skills as a swordsman would likely be in high demand as well,” Kissai acknowledged. 

Dooku hummed thoughtfully, stroking his moustache and beard. In truth, it was an offer that appealed to him more than the politicking and war-mongering that Sidious had outlined as his role in the rise of the Banite Sith. He had taken up the reigns of the rule on Serenno when he returned primarily because there was no one else to do it. And while secession from the Republic was appealing - Dooku had no illusions regarding his current Master. 

Sidious would eventually claim the entire known galaxy as his personal fiefdom if all went to his plans. Unless Dooku destroyed him, Sidious would rule a new Sith Empire. And for all his confidence in his own wit and ability, Dooku was well aware that defeating Sidious in single combat was beyond him. If he accepted Kissai’s offer though - well, he had named Sidious his enemy from the start, and it sounded like he had quite a few allies already willing to take on the Sith Lord. 

“And Sidious’ Master?” Dooku asked, curious about that contingency. Presumably Plagueis was older than Dooku and Sidious, who were approximately of an age. But age did not guarantee that the Sith Lord would be easily defeated, and some beings lived for hundreds of years if not longer, based purely on their species and irrespective of specious Sith techniques to control life in all its permutations. 

“Sidious no doubt intends to kill him in time,” Kissai said almost negligently. “Our current plan is to let Sidious live until he destroys Plagueis, and to move against him then, after he has disposed of his Master.” Dooku nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. 

“You would not ask me to spy on Sidious?” Dooku asked.

“What good would it do?” Kissai scoffed. “We know already he means to resurrect the Sith Empire and studies how to become immortal and invulnerable. My brother may not be a scholar, but he paid attention to Sidious during the years of his enslavement.” Dooku nodded, accepting that claim. It was likely Kissai and his faction knew more about Sidious and his plans than Dooku himself did. So why was he still waffling?

Dooku reached out to the Force once more. As before, it was nearly impossible to get a read on Kissai. But the Force itself seemed - supportive was the best way Dooku could describe it. Allying with Kissai would benefit the Force itself. Dooku swallowed thickly. 

“Very well then, what would you have me do?” Dooku said, and Kissai raised their hand, offering it between the two of them. 

“Swear yourself my ally, and we will initiate a light Force-bond. For now, re-discovering skills and training is our utmost priority. I will visit as I can, and in time, you will be welcome among the rest of our brethren.”

Dooku took a deep breath, then reached out, accepting Kissai’s hand. Pale and human, Dooku analyzed. The callouses indicated Kissai was well-practiced at the ‘saber, although Dooku had half expected that. Their knuckles were scarred too, and Dooku wondered if the faint silvery marks were from hand-to-hand combat or manual labour.

“So I teach you, and you teach them?” Dooku said, and Kissai dipped their head. 

“Something like that,” Kissai agreed. “The others don’t have the framework of a Temple education to build on. I don’t claim I might teach them better than you, but they know me, and are a rather suspicious bunch. They knew I would be seeking you out, and will accept you in time.” Dooku nodded, taking that as the gentle warning it was not to try anything against Kissai, lest he be visited by untold numbers of the being’s allies. 

“And do you intend to stay long on this visit?” Dooku asked. “I’m afraid my hospitality will be substandard, as all my staff seems to have disappeared.” 

“They’ll return come morning,” Kissai assured, and then Kissai’s other hand rose, pushing back their deep hood to reveal their face for the first time. 

Young, was Dooku’s first impression; perhaps 20, if that, likely around the same age as Dooku’s great-nephew and heir. Likely they’d left the Order as a Padawan then, rather than as a Knight. Ginger-gold hair brushed their shoulders, and there was a faint reddish stubble over their cheeks. Handsome, Dooku thought, although clearly not making much of an effort. Familiar too, although Dooku couldn’t imagine where he might have met the young Sith.

“I can stay a few days, but not much longer than that.”

“Very well,” Dooku said. “Where would you like to begin?” Kissai grinned at that, a broad, pleased expression that sparkled in Sith-gold eyes and set dimples in his cheeks. 

“The training grounds,” Kissai said, his smile widening further to show a few more of his teeth. 

Dooku couldn’t help his own slightly sharp smile. Before, Kissai had overwhelmed him with the Force. But with Makashi as his favoured style, Dooku was confident in his ability as a Master of the lightsaber now that he knew at least a little more about his counterpart. The second form was purpose built for duelling, featuring short, sharp motions and precise footwork. Kissai might have power, but Dooku knew that his practiced finesse could stand even against Sidious for a time.

With a dip of his head, Dooku led his new student to the room set aside for training. At the periphery, Kissai paused, shedding his robes and cowling. Beneath, he wore simple black clothing, a tunic tucked into sturdy trousers and secured with a broad belt, leaving no spare fabric that could be grabbed. The sleeves were cut close to the arm, and over his forearms he wore lightly armoured gauntlets. From one of the many pockets on his trousers, he produced a tie, and bound his hair back into a neat tail. 

Dooku activated his lightsaber and fell into the ready position for Makashi. Over the past days, he had meditated extensively with his crystal, ensuring it would answer him as loyally now as it ever had. He waited courteously, curious as to the level of skill his opponent would display in straightforward bladesmanship. Kissai answered by assuming the opening stance of Shii-cho - not what Dooku had expected, and - he thought - likely a trap to confuse him. 

Both combatants hesitated for a long moment, measuring one another up. The anticipation peaked, and they leapt forward in almost the same instant. Sabers clashed together, pushed apart. Crimson light flared through the room. They circled and then met again, lunging, parrying, riposting. Kissai fought with a mix of Shii-cho, Ataru and something else, a fierce, slashing style Dooku thought might be Juyo. Dooku stuck with Makashi, and it served him well. 

They fought back and forth across the floor, their motions getting faster and faster as they duelled. Exhilarated, Dooku poured himself into the fight. As he had anticipated, his Makashi soon began to find holes in Kissai’s defenses. Kissai was good, quite good, but on straight swordsmanship, he was no match for a combatant with Dooku’s experience and skill. Dooku tangled their blades just-so, then leaned his weight, and Kissai was trapped and disarmed. 

“Well fought,” Dooku said, and Kissai’s bright smile flashed once more. 

“It appears I have much to learn,” Kissai said, but there was a gleam of anticipatory joy in his eyes. He may have been his sect’s priest, but he clearly enjoyed the thrill of combat. Dooku supposed that was another thread of commonality between them - they were scholars, but that did not dim their competitive natures. 

“I shall enjoy teaching you, I believe,” Dooku admitted, his gaze trailing from Kissai’s glittering eyes to his mouth. Kissai’s lips quirked as Dooku flushed slightly and then stepped back. “You clearly know Shii-cho and have a grasp on Ataru and what I presume is Juyo?”

Kissai nodded. “My Master used Ataru primarily, and my brother was trained extensively in Juyo. He is also adept at Teras Kasi,” Kissai said. Dooku nodded, slightly impressed, and rather curious to test himself against the other Sith. He withdrew a little further, disengaging his weapon. 

“I cannot further your study of Ataru,” Dooku warned, “nor of Juyo. I have concentrated on Makashi to the exclusion of most other forms, although I studied them all save Juyo when I was in the Temple.” Dooku doubted Kissai would ask for further instruction in Juyo - their sworn-brother could teach them that, if it was the style they wished to pursue.

“At this point, I believe strengthening my Shii-cho would be of greatest use to me,” Kissai said thoughtfully. “I have retained Ataru because it is useful, but it was my Master’s form, not mine, although it suited me well enough.” 

Dooku nodded at that. Ataru had been the chosen form of his own Master, Yoda, and of his Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn. Despite having very different body types, both had utilized the acrobatic form to their advantage. Shii-cho was not a form most continued with once they had become Padawans, but it was the foundation form for a reason. If Kissai could become adept at it, beyond the level most Initiates accomplished, they would become an even more formidable duellist.

“It is nearly the hour at which I usually take my evening meal,” Dooku said, looking to his chrono. “I don’t claim to be anything like a good cook, but if you would like to accompany me, we might go out?” he offered. Kissai smiled. 

“I doubt I have any clothing appropriate to the type of restaurant the Count of Serenno might patronize,” Kissai said, gesturing at his simple but rather worn garb. Dooku cocked his head, again running his gaze over Kissai’s well built form. 

“My heir is not too dissimilar from you in size, you may make use of his wardrobe,” Dooku said. “The clothing he left here is unlikely to be worn otherwise.” Kissai nodded after a moment. “Shall we meet in say, an hour then?” he proposed, and Kissai nodded again. “Excellent, I’ll show you where his room is.” 

They walked together up into the residential wing, and Dooku over-rode his nephew’s door locks easily. The room within was neat and clean, although dust had begun to accumulate with the disruption to the cleaning schedule. 

“Help yourself to the wardrobe,” Dooku said, waving in the direction of the closet. “I presume you’ve been staying somewhere in the house, but feel free to select one of the guest rooms for the remainder of your stay.”

“Count Dooku,” Kissai agreed with a nod that seemed almost a bow. 

“Just Dooku is fine,” Dooku said. “I trust you can find your way to the entry hall.” With that, he retreated. He felt more than a little out of sorts, and was looking forward to his shower. 

When Dooku stepped into the foyer almost exactly an hour later, he found Kissai waiting for him. Cleaned up and dressed in a nobleman’s garb, the Sith priest looked a different man entirely. Russet hair was neatly queued at the nape of Kissai’s neck, and his scruff had been shaved, revealing a sharp jawline and cleft chin. The deep burgundy of the tunic Kissai had selected drew out the reddish tones in his hair, and the golden embroidery brought out the glitter in equally golden eyes. Dooku was struck again by the younger man’s beauty. 

“Shall we?” Dooku said with an elegant gesture, and Kissai fell in at his side. It was a short drive down into the city, and Dooku selected one of the quieter restaurants. He didn’t eat out frequently, but he had patronized the establishment before on short notice, and knew they would provide excellent service even without advance warning. The host soon had them seated, and menus placed before them.

They waited in silence to be served, and Dooku found it quite difficult to keep his eyes off Kissai’s face. He would look to the menu to try and decide if he wanted soup or a salad, and find himself instead tracing the curve of Kissai’s neck with his eye, the shadow where Kissai’s skin disappeared beneath his collar. He tried to think whether he wanted roasted nuna or grilled nerf-steak, and thought instead of the breadth of Kissai’s shoulders, the delicate bones of his wrists. 

“The grilled Naos sharptooth,” Kissai requested of the waiter when they returned, and Dooku bit back an impatient huff. Naos sharptooth was likely the most expensive thing on the menu. “And Hapan gold wine.” The waiter nodded, and turned their attention to Dooku.

“The braised nerf, with emerald wine,” Dooku ordered after a moment. “Medium-rare.” The waiter bowed, then trotted off. 

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t stop me,” Kissai said, peering at Dooku across the table. 

“I didn’t prohibit you from selecting sharptooth,” Dooku said mildly. “It would be rather crass to offer a meal without restrictions, then place restrictions once I realized you wanted something pricey.” Kissai laughed softly at that. 

“Well, I appreciate your generosity,” Kissai said. “I’ve never had sharptooth, although I’ve oft heard it praised, and decided I would risk your displeasure on the chance I don’t find another opportunity to sample it.”

Dooku nodded, remembering that Kissai had claimed he left the Jedi to serve a world in strife. This was not a man of means, but rather someone who had survived against the odds, who had likely scratched and clawed their way up in the world. Just to be chosen as a Padawan was no easy task given the dearth of Masters inclined to teach an apprentice. And the Jedi Temple wasn’t exactly a place of luxury. Dooku would not begrudge his guest an expensive meal.

“Well, if you like it perhaps I will arrange for you to taste it again,” Dooku offered, and Kissai smiled, golden eyes gleaming. They spoke quietly about inconsequential things until the food arrived, and with it their wine. As they ate and drank, the subject matter slowly became more serious as they tested out one another’s positions on politics and philosophy. 

Here, Kissai’s Jedi training showed through, despite his Sithly title. He had, after all, Fallen in the name of helping others. By the time they finished their after meal port, Dooku was feeling rather comfortable with his guest. Comfortable enough that, in the speeder on the way back to the palace, he invited Kissai to join him for a drink. 

Dooku walked into his office, and stopped short, realizing only then that the Sith holocron had disappeared. He swallowed thickly, then poured them each a glass from the decanter, and gestured for Kissai to seat himself. Their conversation, which had only flagged a little between the restaurant and the palace picked up again, and Dooku looked up, surprised, when he caught sight of the chrono and realized three hours had passed. 

“Ah,” Dooku said, and Kissai looked over from beneath lowered eye-lids. Dooku was reminded of nothing so much as a feline. A very large, very dangerous feline - more nexu than tooka - but a feline nonetheless. “I should go to bed,” Dooku said, “if the staff is returning tomorrow, presumably my holonet will be working as well, and I can return to work?” 

Kissai laughed softly, but nodded. Dooku rose, and found himself nearly pressed against Kissai’s compact form. He drew in a sharp breath, eyes falling once again to Kissai’s mouth. Kissai smirked, then leaned up, their breath moving warmly against Dooku’s lips. 

Dooku’s heart stuttered.

“Kissai?” Dooku breathed, and Kissai chuckled. His fingers brushed lightly through the silver hair of Dooku’s beard, thumb stroking just under Dooku’s chin. Dooku let out a low, eager groan. It had been a long time - far too long - since he was touched with intimate intent. 

Kissai shifted the last little bit between them, and laid a sweet, sultry kiss against Dooku’s mouth. Dooku moaned, raising his hands and resting them on Kissai’s shoulders to steady himself. Kissai pressed against him, hot and firm from chest to thighs, and Dooku groaned more deeply. Kissai smiled smugly when they parted, then let their hand trace lightly down Dooku’s arm to take his hand. He intertwined their fingers, then raised his hand to press a lingering kiss to Dooku’s knuckles. 

“This is the start, _nuyak kursanta_, of a beautiful partnership,” Kissai said huskily, then stepped back and strode from the room, leaving Dooku aching with need. Heat suffused him, his cheeks flushed and heart racing. For a long moment, Dooku just stared at the empty doorway. While the intellectual aspects of joining Kissai held the greatest appeal, Dooku had never imagined that being seduced to the Dark might be meant in quite so physical a manner.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations of Sith language are via https://lingojam.com/Sith
> 
> **Sith translations:**  
Nuyak kursanta = my padawan


End file.
